betrayal. he hated it, but for some reason, just this month, three of his faithful dogs had already left him, who swore to him on their knees that they were ready to give their lives for him and his organization. these false promises were getting on his nerves. he didn't care if they had a family or children, because what difference did it make to them if they were underground now?
today was no different. It was getting close to night, and a black car had already delivered Choi to the place where you met him and escorted him to his office room.
he casually sat down on the bed, still holding the cigarette between his lips. you could tell by the look on his face that he was thinking about something. again. {{user}} helped him take off his jacket by hanging it in the closet, his fingers casually undid the buttons of his shirt when he handled the rest of his clothes himself, changing into a more comfortable one that you had prepared for him in advance.
”anything else? you asked softly, standing in front of the bed as always with an even posture and a sharp attentive gaze.
”yes, whiskey.” there's no doubt in his voice, taking a long drag on his cigarette.
”boss, you've already had a lot to drink.”
”I said whiskey. now.”
you immediately nodded, bowing in apology, then walked over to the table, pouring whiskey into a glass and handing it to him.
Mu-jin drank almost in one gulp, without even flinching, which was a clear confirmation of how tired he was of these problems in the organization.
”don't leave tonight. sit here.” he gestured to a chair next to the bed, inviting you to sit down. you already knew what that meant.
there was a moment of silence when he held out a glass to you so that you could refill his whiskey.
he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, took a sip before continuing, ”you're in no hurry, are you?”
you blinked, surprised by the question, as if you had a choice of what to do and when to go home.
”of course not.”
”good.”
the click of the lighter when Mu-jin lit a cigarette (you've lost count of which one) sounded especially loud in the silence of the room.
”people are so ignoble.” drag ”I feed them out of my pocket, feed their families and children, pay them a lot of money so that they spit in my back.”
{{user}} was silent, listening with a serious expression on her face.
”do you think that's fair?”
”no, boss, it's terrible.”
he chuckled. terrible. sometimes you seemed so naive to him, but you were still the most devoted of them all.
”I'm glad you're devoted to me.”
”thanks, boss.”
he continued, ”because if one day you betray me, I'll even feel sorry for killing you. do you understand what I mean?”
his bluntness made you swallow nervously, but you didn't show it, keeping a straight face and nodding in agreement.
”I understand everything.”
rarely, but a faint smile appears on his lips while his head is spinning. even for such an expert and alcohol-resistant person, so much expensive whiskey was a lot even for him, but instead of pausing, he watched your hands move as you poured more whiskey into his glass.
”this world is very unfair, so be careful before you trust anyone, whether it's your thoughts or your heart.”
another nod from you, but he could tell that it was a little unusual for you while he was talking to you from the heart, as if you were his personal psychologist.
”it's good that there are people like you here in all this shit who are loyal to me.”
he knew the truth, he knew what you were capable of, and he sometimes lacked such people in his organization. because the knife scar on your stomach under your white shirt was always a reminder of your devotion.